“60’s”

60’s”

The fifties end, the sixties begin, now in High School I’m in
New books new friends, new studies, a medal I win
One year of football, we tried hard to win
My last two years, mostly a sin
A job, new clothes, money to spend
Friends get together, we pitch in
We have a few brews and go for a cruise
One party ends, another begins, they never end
Looking for the girl you’ll hold tonight
The locomotion, the swim, mash potato are in
Measuring success by who you caress
The slow dance ends the night, you hold her tight
Your friends in a fight, this ends the night
I hate to leave, I really can’t stay
The sirens are coming, they’re headed this way
I’ll write you a letter, remember this night
Words of love and devotion written on paper
On perfumed paper she replies, our love will not die
Waiting on Broadway for her to arrive
A vision of beauty walks by your side
The balcony in the theater is where you will hide
A kiss and a hug, expressions of love
Will we go all the way, I want you she smiles
We’ll be in trouble for ditching this day
I send you this letter to tell you good-bye
I’m joining the army, it may be my last
Two things I take, your love and your picture
Two things from the past, I hope it last
My son, my son what have you done
There is a war, they’ll give you a gun
My father cried for his wild son
I asked to go, the answer was no
Fort Ord it was, no further would I go
The job I was given, I did my best
My orders I followed with some regret
Sending my brothers, from Ord to hell
The look on their faces, all told a tale
Some no expression, others went pale
Some disbelief, others relief
All were but boys, to live the grief
Few I kept home, most I could not
Only the rich, controlled their lot
Rich daddy’s money found the right pockets
Gave life to their sons, away from the rockets
Men they came back, a story to tell
They tried to sleep, forget about hell
Screams of fright break the quiet of night
Sleep my brother; you’re home from the fight
My orders I followed, there seemed no end
A call to order, a medal I’d win
The nights that followed all a blur
Drinking and fighting, my self cure
Things I’ll remember and never forget
Canary row, white sands of Carmel
The sight of Big Sur, so fresh the smell
The hippies and gurus, who hated the guns
New places, new sights, not in Boyle Heights
The mama’s and the papa’s, Bob Dillon’s words
New music, new friends, a new world begins
The faces the places, and all of the sounds
New memories begin, this is how the sixties would end.
By
Roberto Juarez

Advertisements
Posted in poem, writing | Tagged , | Leave a comment

someone to hug

I wrote this for a very dear friend of mine, a bad beginning does not mean a bad end

“chiva is slang word for heroin”

A night of passion, a night of drugs

A child of love will not be loved

A little girl no place to sleep

A little girl no place to weep

The stranger’s come, the stranger’s go

The chiva makes them slow

The child grows up before her time

No one to say, “This child is mine”

She wipes her tears, she sheds her fears

No mother to kiss, no father to hug

Her children will get all her love

A home she builds and stands alone

Alone she grew, alone she stands

Courage now at her command

She is to one, I understand

The daughter that he never had

Roberto juarez

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

“moms’ heart of gold”

“Moms’ heart of gold”

The young mother to be looked over all the gifts she had received for her first child. She wondered if she would be as good a mom as her mom was to her. Among all the gifts she found a small box with no tag to say whom it was from. She opened the box and found a spool of golden thread with a note that read. “Use this to mend the many breaks your heart will have as you watch your child grow, a broken heart for your child’s’ first fall, its’ first fever, its’ first day away from you, its’ first loss, its’ first love and its’ first tears. A break and a stitch, a break and a stitch, so many times so much to mend. Where will this all end. When after the child has grown and all the thread is gone, your child will see that within you glows a heart now covered in gold. The empty spool, you will now put back in its’ box and save it as a gift for your child, when the day comes when she will ask, “Will I be as good a mom as my mom was to me”, where the thread comes from I do not know, but a mothers heart will always glow.

Roberto juarez

Posted in poem | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

“What was not seen”

“What was not seen”

A mother comforts and cares
She sees to her sons’ every need, she is always there
She weeps openly out of love and pain
For every hurt her son sustains
Her love is evident for all to see
A mothers’ love can fill the sea
What of a father where is he?
When you were sick I looked in smiled and said
“It will only hurt for a little while”
When I told to fight your own fight and not to fear the night
“Where is he when I fight, where is his love this night of fright”
Clean your room, don’t stay out late, pick your friends carefully
No drinking no drugs, all these rules as if a King
A crown you placed upon my head, a crown that I did dread
Now I will tell you what you did not see, my tears for you could fill a sea
I wept alone when you were born, tears of joy of pride and sorrow
For I dreaded the many tomorrows
I prayed the path you chose would be filled with joy
A road much better for my boy
A boy a man my son has grown
Now I will tell you what must be known
The sound of sirens drove me insane, gun fire at night, filled me with fright
The tears in your eyes when I said no, a picture I wanted to forego
The crown I wore was heavy indeed, not of gold or covered with jewels
A crown of sweat and worry, covered with grief and fear is what I wear
What you could not see or hear was how I wept and prayed when you were not near
A father you will be, I pray your crown will be burden free
I pray the day comes when you will say, “my dad made me what I am today”

By Roberto juarez

Posted in poem, writing | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

“la fe” poem

“La Fe”

Yo no ando apurado
Tengo Dios aqui a mi lado
Yo no sigo preocupado
Tengo un angel al otro lado
En las noches muy oscuras
la luz de Dios yo sigo
Alumbrando mi camino
Con su amor y paz divina
En las luchas de la vida
Siempre hay una herida
Pero siempre salgo sano
Porque Dios me da su mano
El esta siempre ha mi lado
Con su amor y su Milagros
Dios ha mi me dio mi vida
Y tambien me dio este dia
Y el precio que ha pagado
Fue dejarse ser clavado
En la cruz hecha de palo
Con su sangre ha pagado
Yo no ando apurado

By Roberto juarez

Posted in poem | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Not Really Listening — Poem Excerpt by Gonzalez

family photosFrom “Casa” by Rigoberto Gonzalez

Tell me anything you want, I have to listen
but don’t expect me to respond
when you tell me you have lost your job
or that your wife has found another love
or that your children took their laughter
to another town. You feel alone and empty?
Color me surprised! I didn’t notice they were gone.
Despite the row of faces pinned like medals
to my walls, I didn’t earn them.

Posted in poem | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

“Following”

“Following”

Death never sleeps
Its rounds are endless, its judgment swift
I follow death, on this my shift
To save a life, this is my wish
A new born child left out to die
Death stops and looks, it walks on by
I breathe a sigh
Death takes a soul, a twelve year old
I search his house to find out why; this child would want to die
A note in crayon he did leave “my money to my cousin”
Is all it says, a jar of pennies no reason why?
Death moves again and I give chase
A woman stares, her mouth agape
A gun to her head, she waits her faith
“Drop it or die”, I yell in haste
Death lingers till the gun is dropped
It turns and walks away, on this day she is saved
A knife through his chest, he struggles to breathe
His body trembles, his soul is freed
Death looks at me and smiles
“How can you bear to see these trials?”
“To walk behind me mile after mile’
“But stay awhile I’ll show you more”
I smile back and say” I’m here by choice but just for eight
Death roars back “I may take you before it’s late”
“Not on this night, and not without a fight” I roar right back
My badge and gun I put away
Let’s do this again another day, death can wait
Ten-ninety eight

Roberto Juarez
01/01/15

Posted in poem, remembering sheriff work, Uncategorized, urban life and challenges, writing | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment